


Spawn

by Inkly_Noted



Series: Eldritch MoD Harry and his Spawn James [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry Potter, Dark James Sirius Potter, Eldritch Harry Potter, Eldritch James Sirius Potter, Evil Harry Potter, Gen, Insane Harry Potter, Insane James Sirius Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, No Bashing, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 00:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30097674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkly_Noted/pseuds/Inkly_Noted
Summary: And yeah, sometimes it did get too much. Sometimes he wondered where his dad went, if he died or he left because he really *didn't* want James. If he would have loved James as he was, or been disappointed. When he felt the resentment of being left with his mother, never remembering Harry except a blurry, smiling face. When the expectations piled on, and he lost his temper and they made this face and James scolded himself because his dad *never lost his temper—*(Except he had, did, his anger was an open secret between the people that had known Harry. The raging fire that it had become during the end of the war and after, that same look that James got in his eyes that scared the crap out of them because it was like Harry was looking through the eyes of his child and *condemning them for what they had done to him and hidden from his son—*)Harry Potter has been missing for fifteen years, his greatest achievement was the child he left behind. Everyone assumes him dead, but just because somethings dead, doesn't mean it's gone.
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Sirius Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, past - Relationship
Series: Eldritch MoD Harry and his Spawn James [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214657
Comments: 16
Kudos: 150





	Spawn

Growing up as an only child with his mother Ginny, James Sirius Potter has heard many stories about his father before he had disappeared.

Harry Potter had been kind, brave, witty and handsome, everything James aspired to be. It always confused him how his dad had just gone missing, but his mother and other people that knew his Da shut him down whenever he asked. They called him a deadbeat, said that Harry didn't want James.

To James, growing up in his father's shadow wasn't suffocating like others thought. Oh no, it was inspiring. His dad had been his idol, even if he could be half the man Harry was James would be more than satisfied. So, he excelled at Quidditch, studied hard and tried to help around as much as he could. He snuck around a lot, especially after curfew. The one time McGonagall had caught him, she got this reminiscing look in her eyes and shooed him back to bed without a punishment.

(And how could she not, when the boy peeked at her with those wide, green eyes that were curtained by that mop of wild hair. The guilt, the regret that flooded after because why did Harry have to *throw it all away when everything was supposed to be happy—*)

And yeah, sometimes it did get too much. Sometimes he wondered where his dad went, if he died or he left because he really *didn't* want James. If he would have loved James as he was, or been disappointed. When he felt the resentment of being left with his mother, never remembering Harry except a blurry, smiling face. When the expectations piled on, and he lost his temper and they made this face and James scolded himself because his dad *never lost his temper—*

(Except he had, did, his anger was an open secret between the people that had known Harry. The raging fire that it had become during the end of the war and after, that same look that James got in his eyes that scared the crap out of them because it was like Harry was looking through the eyes of his child and *condemning them for what they had done to him and hidden from his son—*)

— But. That was only sometimes. At the end of the day, when he went to bed, he was a normal kid. His dad was a hero, an idol that had saved them all. And while he yearned to know his dad like he wanted to find the missing piece of puzzle, he supposed he was content with the promises that his dad loved him.

(And he did, Harry loved James more than life itself. It was why he had done what he had done, why he had planned to do things that came to be considered evil.)

That was, until James had found the book. It was more like a journal, and it detailed his father's life. It had been under a loose floorboard in James' childhood room, hidden away from his mother. James had found it on his fifteenth birthday, and he had been drawn to it, likely by a compulsion charm.

And oh, how greedily he had read those pages. It was the closest he had ever felt to the man, his life experiences, his thoughts and feelings. There was so much more than he thought, it had been an unlimited-paged book. The entries started during Harry's fifth year, and ended just before he disappeared. James had laughed and cried, knowing his father so personally was better than a story could ever be.

His joy dimmed to anger as he read the later pages, Quidditch worn fingers threatened to tear the book in two as they trembled. Post-war hadn't been as peaceful as James had been lead to believe. Rogue Deatheaters, destruction, barely recovering from anarchy, war orphans, and death. Harry had been trying to help lead as an Auror, but somehow the government had regressed back to before. It was infested with DE sympathizers and prejudice, the division worse than ever. Despite being a figurehead, Harry was being ignored and dismissed. Apparently his friends hadn't helped either, telling him to keep his head down and let the Ministry sort itself out. Harry referenced that the more comfy with their positions they became, the less they yearned for righteous justice. The corruption had spread even to the DMLE, whose new director seemed akin to the disgraced minister Fudge. 

His dad then delved into something else, the Tale of the Three Brothers. As a child, James knew Beedle the Bard very well, but not well enough to know that the story was apparently true. Despite breaking the Elder Wand, its power followed Harry. As the entrees got shorter and more desperate, he talked about how he had stopped aging, how where his friends gained signs of growing old he stayed youthful. At twenty four, one year before he disappeared, he still looked seventeen.

James' mother had been pregnant with him at the time, which added another layer of questions. Harry had began searching for every scrap of knowledge on this he could, but it was all the way inside the ancient, magical Library of Alexandria that had gifted him answers.

*Oh Jamie, my sweet child.*

*I fear by conceiving you I have condemned you to a terrible existence, the curse of immortality will run through your blood. You're not even born, and yet I have already failed you so spectacularly.*

*As much as I loathe to admit it to myself, I am the Master of Death. No mortal, since I, have held all three Hallows in their grasp. It's not a coincidence that all signs of dying- physically, spiritually, and magically, have disappeared. Aging is the sign of death creeping upon you, a mark that all bear. Your prime is the peak of your existence, and once you reach it you begin to wilt. I have not left my peak, I am stuck and forever will be. Until of course, the time I desire oblivion comes.*

*The Master of Death is a title, and like titles, it comes with specific benefits. I will be too powerful to die, I will be too young to die, and I will be too willfully strong to die. I simply can't, and won't die.*

*But like any title, especially a lordful one like this, it requires an heir. One that will be birthed any time now. As the Heir of Death, you shall have the same benefits. The only difference is that you will command the force of death second to me.*

*I know because I have been experimenting, but I'll tell you more about that when you're older.*

*I'm so sorry, I hope one day in our eternity you can forgive me.*

*Love,*

*Da.*

And hadn't that been a shock, to find out you and your father were immortal. James briefly considered his father had gone insane, but things like sickness and injuries had never once happened to James, a very unnatural thing for someone of fifteen. Neither lost in a test of power or will, also unnatural.

Harry had adopted the format of writing the entries as letters to James, something that made him feel warm inside. However, the words began to feel more angry, more scared for the path of the wizarding world. Being unable to die hadn't set in for Harry yet, and his attachment to the magical world was strong.

He talked of the prejudice, the bigotry, the racism, and how Harry could fix it. All he needed to do was show them the error of their ways and let him help them.

(James ignored the dark and oddly frantic way he wrote, after all, his dad just wanted to help them. He also ignored how similar these goals were to past Dark Lord's, and how much James agreed with them deep down.)

When he got to the last page, it was a note. Hastily scribbled, dated August 13th, 2005. Five months after he had been born, exactly.

*James,*

*They're coming. They've figured me out and they're going to betray me. I spied on one of their little meetings, they had stopped inviting me a while ago after I began to fix things. After everything, my own wife has kidnapped you away from me. Hermione knows I'm the Master, and I think she knows about you. They're going to use you, Jamie, and they're gonna try and kill me.*

*Please, don't believe anything they tell you. I didn't leave you, they took me from you. I want you to know I love you so much, and we'll see each other again soon. They can't fight time.*

*They're going to put me away somewhere remote, probably deep underground and away from any kind of life. The wands power has been absorbed, I've hidden the ring in Little Hangleton Graveyard behind the Angel statue, and I'm leaving the cloak with this journal.*

*I'm in your room writing this, they put up some ancient wards to keep me trapped in the house before they get me. I need you to use the cloak to find the ring, then come find me. If the seal I'm about to create works perfectly, you'll find this when your fifteen. With the power of all three Hallows you'll be able to break me out of where ever they put me, which I'm gonna guess is below the ministry or Azkaban.*

*I'll always love you my son,*

*Dad.*

When James got over the shock, he reached further down into the floor and pulled out a shimmering grey cloak with his trembling hands.

So it was true than.

*They LIED.*

An anger crept up on James, one that continuously built and built and *built* until he was shaking and snarling.

*'My whole life, they told me that my dad left me behind for adventure, that he didn't want me, that he was a DEADBEAT. Mom, Aunt 'Mione, Uncle Ron, Headmistress McGonagall, Grandma; they're all LIARS!

I need to find Da.'*

"Jimmy? Are you in their sweetie? Everyone's ready to cut the ca—"

Ginny had always worried for her son. Ever since he was a boy, he had idolized Harry. He wanted to fight a dragon like Harry, be a hero, even be a Parselmouth like him. She and the rest of the family discouraged it, tried to make him see that Harry wasn't gonna come back because he wasn't. The Harry that they had known was gone, all that was left was an evil, abominable being that wore his face. A being that they had had to secretly seal away so that it would be unable to destroy civilization, and the world with it. A being that had impregnated her with his spawn, the spawn that she had grown to love none the less.

The spawn, the boy that was walking down the stairs to the dining room; carrying the invisibility cloak that the Order Members had been looking for for nearly fifteen years. Her boy, who was looking at her with such evil, angry hatred on his face that she dropped the glass in her hand.

"You knew." It wasn't a question, Harry's old journal in his other hand confirmed that. He stopped a few feet in front of her, right in the view of all the Order members.

"James, I—"

"You all knew. You *LIARS!*" The force of that yell stopped Ginny's heart, and she heard the others begin standing up and drawing their wands. Hermione attempted to calm him down.

"We're sorry, but we didn't have a choice—"

"SHUT *UP!* YOU LOCKED HIM AWAY FROM ME FOR FIFTEEN YEARS, *WHERE IS MY DAD?!*" James was practically snarling, green eyes glowing angrily and mirroring his father's all that time ago.

The shadows in the room looked darker, taller and more menacing. They hissed angrily, slithering around the house and whispering of darkness. The ground where James had been standing was decaying, the floor rotting from under their feet. 

James looked into his mother's eyes, staring through her and seemingly *knowing* things. 

"So he was right, you locked him up in Azkaban." He whispered, before looking at them like *nothing* and putting the cloak on. He vanished into the shadows, they never heard the door open.

Little Hangleton was quite a ways away, but suddenly James just thought about it and he *knew* how to get there. When James appeared from the shadow of a grave from the graveyard, he probably imagined the whispered little 'good job.' He found the angel statue, noting that it seemed rather broken.

He found a heavy ward that dispelled as soon as he was near, and picked up a pitch black riverstone from a buried box.

Then, listening the the encouraging little whispers, James twisted into the darkness until he walked out onto the island of Azkaban.

The guards tried to stop him, but he simply pushed them into the wall. All that matters now was getting his father *out.* 

He went deeper and deeper, the farther down he went the more insane the inmates were. They babbled and screamed but just whimpered when James past them, he paid them no mind. Soon he was as far down as possible in the dark grimy prison, it was pitch black but he could see everything clearly. 

There was a giant set of doors, every enchantment he could imagine was layered on them. Nothing short of Dumbledore risen from the dead would be able to unravel them.

Good thing he didn't need to.

It was way too simple, all he had to do was push just a smidge *there* and—

Pop!

James pushed open the doors, noting the rather lack-luster cell in front of him. But that wasn't what drew his attention. Inside the cell was a man just shy of six feet, he had a dark blue t-shirt with blue jeans on, and a pair of sneakers. He didn't look a day over twenty, with messy jet black hair that was darker than James' redish hue, pale skin that hadn't seen the sun in years, and—

Oh. That was James' face. And green eyes.

Harry Potter looked over at his son, watching as the fifteen year old boy opened the cell and stared at him. Harry walked out slowly and stood in front of him, also looking. James was shorter by a few inches, with dark bloody red hair that looked like his grandmother's, and a few freckles. But everything else looked like Harry's child.

Then, with a hand, he touched the side of James' face. A slow smile crept onto his pale lips. Harry wrapped his arms around his boy, tucking his head under his chin. He felt James sniffle and cling to him, and Harry pet the back of his son's hair. He soothed the sobs with a lullaby that he had sung when James was just a baby, it had helped put him to sleep.

Harry pulled back, clasping his hands on James' shoulders. The grip was mildly possessive, but James just squeezed his da's hands. 

"I missed you, dad." Harry was still smiling, committing every feature of his son to memory.

"I missed you too, Jamie."

Muffled bangs came from above, and two identical sets of green eyes snapped up to the alerted guards. The easy smile on Harry's face turned sharp, too many too sharp teeth gleaming in the dark.

"Say, Jamie," Harry spoke slyly without looking away from above. "that was rather sloppy of you. Keeping them alive like that can be quite troublesome later. How about you let your old man show you how it's done?" 

James grinned, too wide and too sharp.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll make this a series and add segments, if you have any ideas please comment!


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